


Sole Protector

by The_Epitome_of_Pretense



Series: The Sole Saga [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fainting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Robot/Human Relationships, Romantic Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 10:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15947201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Epitome_of_Pretense/pseuds/The_Epitome_of_Pretense
Summary: The Sole Survivor and Nick Valentine just want to reach Goodneighbor before nightfall, but getting there is trickier than it seems. Something is wrong with Nick.





	Sole Protector

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to both of my readers! Are you guys ready for some fluff... and DRAMA??  
> 

It was almost sundown in the Theater District, and Sole was nearly out of ammo.

She dug through her backpack for the third time, hoping to find even a single stray bullet. She had given up on finding any more fusion cells.

“Any luck?” Nick asked.

“No, those mutants cleaned me out,” she grumbled, “Let’s stop by Diamond City.”

“As much as I’d like to check up on everybody, I think Goodneighbor is closer. And we should probably get there pretty quick if we don’t want to get caught out here after dark,” a hint of impatience colored his voice.

Sole glanced westward and tried to gauge how many hours of light they had left. There wasn’t much.

“Goodneighbor it is,” she said.

Nick started toward the city, and Sole was happy to let him lead the way. A 10mm pistol with only a handful of bullets would do her no good if they ran into an ambush, or worse, another den of supermutants. Though they both had a talent for finding trouble, Nick seemed to find it less often.

She took note of a new tear on Nick’s coat. Trouble wasn’t seldom enough, in her opinion. Maybe she would offer to mend it when they arrive. He would like that. Maybe he would read something to her while she worked—something from the copy of _Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe_ he kept with him. She smiled at the thought. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, held by the way the patched coat fit across his shoulders.

She shook her head and glanced away.

 _Friends aren’t meant to be looked at like that,_ she reminded herself.

Even if they were reasonably attractive. And kind. And shared her interests. And made her heart flutter when their eyes met hers.

Lost in thought, she did not realize that Nick had stopped walking until she ran into him.

“Oh, sorry about that,” she said.

He made no reply, but stared straight ahead, expressionless.

“Nick?”

Nothing.

She waved her hand in front of his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?” She said.

He blinked rapidly. Confusion replaced his blank expression.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

He furrowed his brow.

“Maybe let me run a diagnostic right quick,” he said, “Keep an eye out, will you?”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

“You’ve been doing a lot of those lately,” Sole asked when he opened them again. “Is something going on?”

“It’s probably nothing. Come on, we’re burning daylight.”

He started down the road. Nick was hiding something, and she did not like it. She kept her eyes trained on him as they walked. If anything seemed different, she was determined to catch it.

 _He’ll probably make me lead the way if he notices me watching him,_ she thought.

“Hey Valentine,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“What are your thoughts on ‘Murders in the Rue Morgue’? I just read it the other day.”

He looked up in frustration. She noticed him sway on his feet a little, then catch himself and keep walking.

“Don’t get me started on that one. I can usually predict the end of most of those mysteries, but an orangutan as the murderer? Give me a break. How am I supposed to put that together? Orange hair at the crime scene and a giant handprint on the victim’s neck could just mean the murderer was big Irish fella.”

“Oh barkeep, this isn’t what I meant when I ordered an Irish stout,” Sole quipped.

That made Nick laugh. She couldn't help but laugh too, in spite of her resolve to pay close attention.

“Anyway, I’m not a fan of that one,” he continued. “I think a mystery writer should at least give readers a fighting chance to figure it out on their own.”

“Eh, I guessed it pretty quick.”

“You did not.”

“Sure I did.”

“Did you really—” he glanced at her.

She tried to hide her smile, but he saw through her in an instant.

“No, you’re just being ornery, aren’t you?” He said with a smirk.

“You got me.”

The banter lightened her mood some. Something was definitely going on with Nick, but at least at this rate they would make it to Goodneighbor before dark. She could cajole an answer from him once they were safe inside.

They went another block before he stumbled, falling down to one knee. She was by his side in an instant. She pressed his arm and shot him a look that demanded answers.

“This doesn’t seem like nothing,” she said.

He shook his head, refusing to meet her glance.

“I’ve just been feeling… I don't know. A little off, that’s all.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Well, I can’t say it’s ever happened before.”

A tinge of fear crept over her. Almost out of bullets, almost out of daylight, and now this new worry to top it off.

“We have to get you to a doctor. Or a mechanic. Whatever it is you need, we should get you there pronto,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, his gravelly voice growing distant, “I think you’re right.”

She pulled his arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet. They had only taken a few steps before his strength gave out and his weight bore them both to the ground.

“Damn…” he muttered, “Whatever this is, it’s hitting me pretty fast…”

Sole hurried to her feet. She tried to help him up, but with no success.

“Come on, get up. We need to get you somewhere safe,” she urged.

“I think I just… just need to rest a minute.”

Panic surged through her.

“Rest?” Her voice grew desperate, “What do you mean, ‘rest’? You never rest! Hell, I’ve never even seen you lay down before.”

She watched him helplessly as he struggled to his hands and knees. Before she could help him, he slumped onto his side.

“Nick!”

She knelt beside him and shook his shoulders.

“I’m trying,” he said, “but… nothing’s working… quite right…”

She was at a loss. Everything was happening so fast; all she could do was stare. A moment passed in silent terror. Then she snapped out of her trance—she had to do something, even if it was wrong. Taking him by the collar of his coat, she dragged him into an abandoned store nearby. Her nails tore fresh holes in the worn fabric. She leaned him against the sales counter, made a quick sweep of the room to be sure they really were alone, then got down beside him.

Her chest heaved, lungs aching from the effort. Moving him just that short distance had taken all her strength—there was no way she could get him to Goodneighbor alone.

Nick seemed to be trying just as hard to keep his eyes open. His own breath came in short, labored bursts. She squeezed his hand and patted his face, her mind racing to think of ways to keep him awake. To keep him with her. To keep him at all.

“Hey, tell me about the time you scared the socks off that one group of thugs,” she said.

She tried to keep the fear out of her voice. She failed.

“...Told them… that I was rigged… to explode… and…” his voice trailed away. His head fell back against the counter.

Sole’s blood ran cold. Her mouth went dry. Everything seemed frozen and unreal. She held his face and called his name. She wanted to yell for him to wake up, but that would only bring enemies down upon them. With a careful hand, she slid back one of his eyelids. The yellow glow was gone.

Disbelief washed over her. The dark, empty look in his eyes threatened to overwhelm her. She began to shiver. It couldn’t be over that quickly. He was fine just an hour before. She would not allow herself to consider any possibility other than that he would be okay. But how could she help him when she couldn’t even carry him? God only knows what would happen if any scavengers found him.

She took a deep breath, then dragged him behind the counter and covered him with a thin slab of metal that had come loose from the wall. When she was sure that no one passing by would be able to spot him, she took his gun and bolted out the door. His hat had fallen off just outside. She snatched it up, but did not slow her pace. She vowed that she would not stop running until she reached the city.

The sun had set when she burst through the front gate of Goodneighbor. Her legs were numb with pain. Her throat felt raw and cold. She thanked heaven that she had not run into anything along the way.

One of the Neighborhood Watch looked at her in surprise.

“You alright there, sister?” He said.

She tried to speak, but she could not stop gasping for air. The ground tempted her to lie down. She ignored it. Then she spotted a familiar Assaultron at the weapons shop. She stumbled forward and let herself fall against the doorpost.

“KL-E-0—” she said between breaths.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” KL-E-0 said. “You look awful. Just got a sweet little laser pistol that might cheer you up, though.”

Sole pointed frantically at the crumpled fedora in her hand.

“—It’s Nick—” she managed to say.

“That’s a hat, honey.”

“No, listen—Nick is in trouble—”

“What kind of trouble?” her demeanor altered in a flash. It was the first time Sole ever heard a concerned tone in her voice.

“He collapsed—I don’t know what’s wrong with him,”

“Where is he?”

“Theater District. I can show you.”

“Alright honey, let’s go get him.”

Sole stood upright, only to find herself suddenly on the ground. Her legs refused to obey her. KL-E-0 scooped her up and hefted her over her shoulder.

“This is no time for drama,” the Assaultron said.

The ruins of Boston passed by her in a haze. Time seemed to pass both quicker and slower. The cool air all but froze the sweat that had collected on Sole’s brow. Her mind filled with visions of Nick being discovered and dragged off—despite her best efforts to keep calm. Then a familiar place caught her eye.

“There,” Sole pointed.

KL-E-0 slowed and entered the shop. Sole slid to the ground, crawled to the metal slab, and tried to lift it. KL-E-0 pushed her to the side, then tossed the slab across the room. Nick still lay exactly where she left him. Sole refused to acknowledge the sick feeling that rose up in her gut, but watched as KL-E-0 picked him up with a care that surprised her. Then it dawned on her—KL-E-0 could only carry one of them at a time.

“Get him to safety,” Sole said.

The Assaultron nodded and sprinted into the night. In a manner of seconds, the rhythmic sound of her footsteps faded and disappeared.

Sole still had not caught her breath after the first run. She leaned against a rust-covered wall, though the cold was an unwelcome sensation. Gunfire sounded in the distance. She prayed that it wasn’t between here and Goodneighbor. At least KL-E-0 could protect him better than she could. She almost relaxed.

That was when she heard it. Footsteps, and not KL-E-0’s. Uneven, staggering footsteps. Something was stalking in the darkness nearby. Her exposed position made her uneasy. She held her breath and waited for it to pass, but the sound only came closer.

Her heartbeat shifted from a slow, painful pounding to a swift racing. Waiting was no longer an option.

She fished the last stimpack from her bag and stabbed it into her leg. The unnaturally cold liquid coursed through her with all the subtlety of an ice bath. The strength in her legs returned—along with the feeling. The pain almost made her cry out. Her hands shook as she drew out a bottle of Buffout she had been saving for an emergency. Nick didn’t approve of chems, but Nick was not there. She downed a pill.

The combination made her whole body shake, but the pain ebbed away. She stood up, took a loose board from the ground, and hid beside the door. The footsteps grew ever closer.

She waited until the ghoul’s shriveled face came into view. When it peered around the corner with it’s dull, empty eyes, she took a swing.

The wood cracked and splintered in two. The ghoul dropped to the floor.

Sole breathed a sigh of relief. She let the board’s remnants fall from her hand, then walked out the door.

A sudden force threw her to the ground. She rolled the ghoul off her back and leapt to her feet. The creature lurched about on the ground, trying to stand. Sole didn’t wait for it to struggle to its feet; she took off at a sprint back toward Goodneighbor.

But those footsteps were still behind her, and gaining fast. She wondered how many shots Nick’s gun had left. Yet firing the weapon might attract unwanted attention; dealing with more than one problem in her current state would be impossible. She gripped the gun and estimated how far behind her the ghoul was. She had good timing before; another well-crafted instant might be her salvation.

She listened and waited, then stopped dead in her tracks and stepped to the side. The ghoul, taken by surprise, stumbled past her. She did not give it a chance to turn around. Sole had already raised the gun. With a fluid motion, she cracked the ghoul on the back of the head.

It faltered, took another clumsy step, then sank to the ground. Blood streamed from its nose and temple. When Sole was sure that it would never rise again, she left it behind and sprinted back to Goodneighbor.

KL-E-0 was waiting for just outside her shop. The Assaultron did not bother with pleasantries, but merely said,

“Memory Den.”

“Thanks,” Sole said.

“Godspeed, honey.”

The Buffout had just begun to wear off when she dashed through Dr. Amari’s door. Nick was there, laid out on a table, his shirt removed and tossed aside. She had never seen him even take off his coat before. Pockmarks and missing patches of skin dominated his right side. The fluorescent light on his pale gray skin only made him look more like a corpse. Seeing him like this, helpless and only half-dressed, drove home the gravity of the situation. The worry made her head spin.

A moment passed before she noticed the doctor bending over him. She rushed to the table, tossing Nick’s hat with his shirt.

“Is he—” her throat squeezed around the words, cutting her off.

“I can’t say anything for sure yet,” Dr. Amari said. “But you got here just in time. You said he collapsed?”

“Yeah, he—he said he felt a little off, then he got tired all of a sudden, and next thing I knew he was on the ground and his eyes were dark—it happened so fast—“

Sole struggled to keep her voice steady. She swallowed hard and pushed down the urge to cry. Amari placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

“This isn’t your fault,” she said. “Let’s find out the problem before we worry too much. Now help me with his chest plate, it’s easier with two sets of hands.”

Sole did not have to be asked twice. She stood across the table from the doctor, and together they worked the plate free. A tangle of wires and springs lay beneath. The arrangement was eerily similar to human muscle.

“Have you ever done this before?” Sole asked.

“Honestly? No. Synth or human, my specialty is the brain, not the body. There may be folk in Goodneighbor who know more about machines than I do, but quite frankly, I wouldn’t trust anybody but myself with something this important. Hand me that screwdriver, please. The flat-headed one.”

Sole did as she was asked, then watched the doctor unfasten the work of muscle and peel it back. Sole held it out of the way while Amari investigated the dense jumble of wires beneath. There was more packed in his chest than she would have thought possible. No wonder he weighed so much.

“What you described makes me think it might be a power issue. If we’re lucky, the problem is nothing more than a loose connection,” Amari explained.

A frightening thought stole into Sole’s mind.

“Will he be the same?” She said, “I mean, will it still be him in there? If he lost power, does that mean his brain might have reset somehow?”

Amari shrugged and shook her head.

“We’ll have to just wait and see,” she said.

Sole thought the doctor’s bedside manner could use some work. But as much as she hated to admit it, she did appreciate the honesty. Getting her hopes up only to have them dashed—she wondered if it wouldn’t be worse than watching him fall the first time.

Suddenly, Amari paused.

“Do you have a flashlight?” She asked.

Sole activated the one on her PipBoy.

“What did you find?”

“Look here,” Amari pushed aside a bundle of wires, revealing an oblong panel. A fusion core was set in the center. Beside it, an indicator light flashed red. A tiny line of print underneath read “replace core.”

“Is it… damaged or something?” Sole asked.

“Seems that way. The wires look good, at any rate,” Amari scratched her chin, looking thoughtful.

“So we need a new one then,” Sole said. “I can find one. I’ll be back as quick as I can—“

“No, no need,” Amari walked over to the control panel on the far wall.

She flipped open a clear cover and took the core out of the computer. Every light, aside form the PipBoy, went dark. Angry shouts sounded upstairs.

“Your customers won’t be happy about that.”

“We can stand to lose one night’s business. Here, hold this for a moment.”

She handed the core to Sole. Then the doctor took hold of the one in Nick’s chest.

“Wait!” Sole gripped Amari’s wrist. “What if we lose him? Shouldn’t we hook him up to—I don’t know, a backup battery or something?”

“The core is comprised. It’s not putting out any energy. If any reset was going to happen, it would already be too late. So that just leaves us with a very comforting question: what is powering that little light?”

Sole thought for a moment. Realization overtook her, leaving ecstatic relief in its wake.

“There’s an auxiliary power supply,” she said.

“Exactly. Clearly it’s not enough to keep him on his feet, but I doubt that is the purpose. I suspect it is a fail-safe to protect his mind in situations just like this.”

Amari took hold of the old core and yanked it out. Without missing a beat, Sole inserted the new one. The little light flashed green, then went out.

A moment passed. Sole’s entire body tensed in anticipation.

“Did it work?” She whispered.

“It’s hard to say. This might take time.”

“Well I doubt he’ll want to wake up with his chest torn open,” Sole said, trying to convince herself that he would wake up.

They arranged everything back where it should be, replaced all the screws, and reattached the chest plate.

“I’m going to get some candles,” Amari said. “That green light is too eerie for me.”

She excused herself upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a handful of candles and a cup of water, the latter of which Sole accepted with a grateful nod.

“How did everyone take the news that the Den would be closed for the night?” She asked.

“Actually, I haven’t broken it to them yet. Right now they just think there’s a malfunction.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help. I know Nick will be grateful when he’s awake.”

“No need to thank me. I just hope the customers are as nice when I explain what’s going on,” Amari said with a smile.

She then returned upstairs, leaving Sole alone with Nick. Sole pulled up a chair and situated herself next to him. He still was not breathing—or moving at all. She knew that he didn’t need to breathe, but seeing him dead-still twisted her stomach and overwhelmed her thoughts. She wished for any sign that he was still in there—for any indication that he might be okay. The new core should work, she reminded herself. But there was no guarantee. How long would she wait before giving up? Days? Weeks? She didn’t know whether to keep hoping or start grieving.

Then she remembered The Institute; if all else failed, maybe they could do something. If they got Nick back, would they ever let him go?

She had never felt so helpless. There was always a plan or a next step, but now all she could do was wait.

 _If we were in a movie, this is exactly when you’d be waking up,_ she thought.

The warm glow of the candlelight blurred as tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She folded her arms on the table and let her head drop onto them.

Half an hour passed with no change. She dug the sewing kit out of her bag and began mending his coat to pass the time. Without Nick’s company, the task was much more bleak than she had hoped it would be. She stopped after fixing the first rip. She switched on her radio, but turned it off after one song. Any distraction from her vigilance felt like a betrayal.

Dr. Amari checked in periodically, but mostly left Sole alone. Sole wondered if the doctor already knew it was hopeless and wanted to let the realization hit her slowly.

The minutes ticked by with the haste of a half-life. Her eyes grew heavy. After struggling for a time, she dragged her chair closer, took his hand in hers, and rested her head on his chest. If he moved, it would wake her up—she hoped.

She began to doze. It almost made her laugh to think how ridiculous she must look.

 _Throwing yourself on the unconscious body of a loved one only looks good on the silver screen,_ she thought.

That begged the question: what were they to one another? Friends, to say the least. Very good friends. Partners. And taking such risks to help him didn't mean anything—she would have done the same for any of her friends. Sole tried to stifle the deeper feelings that had begun to take hold of her purely because she did not know where Nick stood. He just considered her a friend, more likely than not. If that was truly how he felt, then she wouldn't press the matter. But what if he returned her feelings? 

She resolved to tell him if he woke up. Maybe not immediately, but soon. At least then she would know whether or not to set aside her affections for good.

She let out a breath and settled herself, enjoying the gentle rise and fall. Then she realized that it was not her own breathing that lifted her.

A shock coursed through her. Her eyes snapped open and she bolted upright.

She held her breath, watching as Nick’s eyes slowly opened and the yellow glow flickered to life.

“Hey, what are we doing at Dr. Amari’s place?” He said. “And why are all the lights out?”

 _It’s still him,_ she thought.

She could have kissed him right then and there. Or slapped him. Or grabbed him and never let go.  

“How much do you remember from earlier today?” She said, surprised by the calm in her voice.

He sat up and rubbed his forehead.

“We… We were headed for Goodneighbor when I blacked out—Wait, did you drag me into an old store? Am I remembering that right?”

“Yeah. I did my best to hide you, but I had to leave you there. I couldn’t bring you here on my own. I’m so sorry—”

The lump in her throat cut off her words. Seeing him awake—knowing at last that he was okay—overwhelmed the mental barrier that she had built to keep herself together. Now that she knew he was safe, everything fell apart. She doubled over and clasped her hands to her face, trying and failing to keep her sobs under control.

He slipped down from the table and knelt beside her. He lingered there for a time before reaching out with his good hand and placing it on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You got me here in one piece. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Sole wiped the tears from her eyes.

“It’s not that,” she said. “You scared the hell out of me, Nick. I didn’t know what I could do to help you. I didn’t even know if I could help you—I thought I might have lost you.”

He looked at the floor.

“Oh, I… I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Just—try to take better care of yourself, okay? We’re partners. If one of us has a problem, then both of us have a problem."

"Fair enough."

"I need to apologize for something, though.”

“For what?”

“For what I’m about to do.”

Before the quizzical look could leave his face, Sole threw herself on top of him, wrapping her arms around his neck. They both hit the tile floor, but Sole didn’t notice the pain. Tears began to stream from her eyes again.

“That’s a hell of a welcome,” he said.

“I’m just so happy that you’re alright.”

She untangled herself from his neck, but before she could start to get up, he laid his arms across her back. She hoped he couldn’t see the blush that burned her.

“Sorry, I—I hope you don’t mind if I hold on to you for a minute,” he said. “Getting knocked out is chilly business, and I don’t run so great in the cold.”

It took a moment for Sole to collect herself enough to respond.

“I didn’t know the temperature bothered you,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

“Only if it’s extreme. Nearly melted a few gaskets some years back due to overheating. Word of advice: never go to the Glowing Sea at the height of summer.”

Sole laughed at the thought.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“So what exactly happened to me this time?” He said.

“Your fusion core was corrupted. Dr. Amari replaced it with the one in her computer, and that’s why it’s dark in here. I was afraid that removing it would… I don’t know, erase all your data or something, but she figured out that you had a backup power supply. I think it saved your brain.”

“Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. All this fuss, all the grief you had to deal with, was all because I had a dead battery?”

Sole couldn’t help but chuckle.

“When you put it that way, I feel pretty silly for worrying so much.”

He let out a groan.

“Well this is embarrassing,” he grumbled. “Oh, maybe don’t tell Ellie about this. She’ll chain me to my desk if she finds out.”

“Hmm. I’ll help her.”

“You know, my life would be a lot easier if you two didn’t get along so well.”

“Your life? Easy? We can’t have that.”

“Apparently. So did you and the doc find anything interesting while rooting around in there?”

“Just a lot of hot air.”

“Everything’s in order, then.”

“Something like that.”

She laughed and relaxed a little, absent-mindedly letting her fingers trace the seam on his shoulder. She could feel the warmth already building in his chest. His breath faltered slightly—she almost didn’t notice. His arms tightened around her. Her heart skipped a beat.

 _Tell him,_ she urged herself.

Then the weight on her back disappeared as Nick straightened his arms at his sides.

“We should get going,” he said.

The business-like tone in his voice made Sole feel like she had just been punched in the gut. She got to her feet.

“Right, right,” she said, struggling to suppress her disappointment.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the—well, everything—”

“—Don’t mention it.”

“—It’s just that—I mean, we should start looking for a new core for Amari. Can’t leave the Memory Den in the dark, can we?”

“That would be downright ungrateful of us.”

“Exactly. Let it never be said that Nick Valentine is ungrateful. Say, what happened to my coat? And my shirt… and my tie…?”

“They got radioactive core juice all over them. We had to burn ‘em.”

“What—?” he looked to her with panic in his eyes, then scowled when he saw the smirk on her lips.

“Way to kick a man while he’s down,” he said.

She offered him a hand up.

“Don’t get your circuits in a twist. They’re over there.”

“Hmm. Thanks.”

He crossed the room and started dressing. Sole remembered herself after a moment and looked away.

“Oh, I might have put a few new tears in your coat. Sorry about that.”

“At least you didn’t burn it. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They made their way up the darkened stairs, through the Den, and out into the lamplit streets of Goodneighbor. Nick paused on the front step, staring at the sky.

“Damn. How long was I out?” he said.

“Too long.”

“Huh. I guess we’ll have to wait until morning to find another core. But you should probably get some sleep, anyway.”

Sole shook her head. She didn’t want to admit that her heart was still racing from earlier.

“I won’t get a wink after all this,” she said. “How about we find a spot to sit? I’ll fix your coat for you.”

She settled herself onto one of the benches just outside The Third Rail and started threading one of the few needles she had left. Nick sat at the other end. She wondered if he was avoiding her. She would have bet money that there was a spark between them earlier—was it just her own wishful thinking?

He pulled the book from his coat pocket before handing the garment to her.

“So, what’ll it be tonight?” he said, flipping through the pages.

Sole smiled. Spark or no spark, they were still partners.

“Something absurd,” she said.

“Alright then, how about… aha, perfect,” He cleared his throat and began to read.

“'It was a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated an unusually hearty dinner…’”

She sat back and enjoyed the practiced ease with which he read. The last remnants of her worry melted away.

It was nearly sunup in Goodneighbor and Sole was still out of ammo, but she did not care at all.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone curious, the story he picks is "The Angel of the Odd," by Edgar Allan Poe (a personal favorite of mine).


End file.
